


please indulge me

by jefferyspingus



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Age Regression/De-Aging, Anal Fingering, Booty Calls, Crying, Crying During Sex, Emotional Manipulation, First Time Bottoming, HEAVY praise kink, Hand Jobs, Joseph Kavinsky is His Own Warning, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Manipulation, Mindbreak, POV switch, Panic Attacks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Subspace, They are both 18 in this fic, at the very end there, emotional whiplash, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jefferyspingus/pseuds/jefferyspingus
Summary: Kavinsky discovers one of Gansey's greatest weaknesses.Being knuckle-deep in him also helps.
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Joseph Kavinsky
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	please indulge me

Even disheveled and flushed and clinging to his dignity, Gansey exuded regality, his disdain both inflexible and _righteous._

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

With finality, as if it were a threat.

Kavinsky’s answering rasp was like crushed newspaper.

“God forbid. You’re like a vice already, and I’d like to keep the use of this hand.”

The wet sounds between them bounced in Gansey’s ears, taunting him, before they seemed to get eaten up by all the useless plush in the room. Kavinsky’s home was hardly a palace, unkept and perpetually smelling of smoke and spilled drinks. It did, however, contain all the _stuff_ that people who have too much money tend to accumulate: blankets and carpets and swathes of fabric that had no particular purpose, but were kept and coveted anyway.

“Aww, look at that,” Kavinsky said, all mock-sympathy. “You’re holding onto my fingers so tight, it’s as if you think you’ll never get them again.” He put on a desperate, sighing voice, gasping between words. “‘Please, please don’t go away. Please don’t take them out!’ Oh, poor thing.”

“I don’t sound like that,” Gansey hissed to one side.

K bit the tip of his tongue, a chuckle trapped under his canine. “You may as well. Even underneath me, even now. Even as you hate me,” he punctuated with a particularly harsh jab of his fingers, “you want to be fucked, and so anyone will do.”

With his eyes slitted and his teeth bared, Gansey wasn’t the shining politician’s son, or the model student that he was at Aglionby, but hell if he was going to let Kavinsky’s words bother him. He knew what he’d signed up for the second he saw the name on Ronan’s lock screen and picked up the phone.

“How about this,” Kavinsky spoke over his thoughts, used his fingertips to tug at Gansey’s rim. “If you give up the act, and stop pretending that you aren’t gagging for this, then I’ll be whoever you want.”

“How about you — _hah_ , — stop talking.”

“No, no, truly, it’ll be fun,” Kavinsy grinned. “I can be the townie who brings you down a couple pegs, call you trash. Maybe that’s novel for you.” He twisted his fingers. “I can be indifferent, like Lynch, like I don’t even care, watch watch watch,” K let his face fall flat and unamused, before he went on. “Lord knows he’s got a sweet fuckin’ ass. God, what else? I can pretend to be sweet. I can talk soft to you, call you _angel-boy_.”

Gansey exhaled as Kavinsky managed to brush something inside of him. Every muscle in his pelvis felt painfully tense, and he was sure that it showed on his face.

“Oh, sweetheart,” K crooned. He rested his cheek against Gansey’s hiked-up knee, smushed in a way that would be endearing if he wasn’t such a pit viper. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“I’d have to be a masochist to put myself in your line of sight,” Gansey sighed under his breath.

K laughed. “Good one. But believe it or not, you don’t strike me as the type.”

“What type am I?” Gansey could care less, but the question came out before he gave it permission to.

“I think you want guidance.”

And before he could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean—

“Do you wanna try relaxing, baby? Here, I can hold your hand.”

Gansey felt his lip curl, but was taken aback by Kavinsky’s hand seeking out his own, gently weaving their fingers together. When he looked, K’s expression was schooled into something almost tender.

“Good job, Gansey,” Kavinsky whispered.

K sounded like he was reassuring a teary kindergartener, and against his will, Gansey shivered. The first time, it had just been poor timing; Kavinsky had managed to stroke against a good spot. But this time, there was no physical stimulus to serve as an excuse.

“Now can you breathe for me? We’re gonna do three big breaths, ready?”

Gansey’s eyes widened. It was supposed to be patronizing. It was supposed to piss him off.

He knew this was just another brand of Kavinsky’s mind games, but the words just sounded wrong coming from Kavinsky’s mouth.

“Here’s the first one—breathe in, breathe out,” K demonstrated, the very picture of patience and concern.

Gansey just stared.

“Number two. Breathe in...breathe out. It’ll help, baby boy, I promise.”

K wasn’t even moving the fingers in his ass anymore — _letting him adjust?_ No, this was _Kavinsky_ , all cruelty, all for laughs, all to mess with his head—

“Last one, angel. With me, okay? Breathe in...breathe out.”

Gansey felt like he was in a fugue state, trying to pick apart Kavinsky’s thoughts, and that distraction was the only reason why he happened to inhale and exhale just when Kavinsky suggested it of him. Entirely coincidence.

Kavinsky had caught it, though. “There you go, Gansey. There you go.” He squeezed his hand and went on, ever-saccharine, “Breathing slow can help us feel better, you did such a good job. Would you like a reward?”

“Stop it,” Gansey managed. “No. Stop.”

“Honey...” K’s dark eyes searched his face. “You don’t think you deserve a reward?”

“Stop!..” Gansey’s chest felt tight, and his hand squeezed on Kavinsky’s involuntarily.

“You’re allowed to have rewards, you don’t have to be afraid ofthem—” His voice was too quiet. Kavinsky’s fingers were pulling out of him, being wiped on the cushion, but he wasn’t going for his belt. He’d stopped prepping him completely.

“Do you think you weren’t good enough?..You were trying something new, new things can be scary.”

“ _You’re_ scaring me,” Gansey’s chuckle came out more like a sob.

“I’m not trying to.” Kavinsky’s thumb stroked against his own. Was this still an impression, a persona, to wrench off and toss aside as soon as Kavinsky got bored with the joke?

Kavinsky brought their joined hands up to his mouth, and, in the most impossibly intimate action of the night, gently kissed the back of Gansey’s hand.

His lips were chapped and warm and it was too much, too much.

“I’m about to have a panic attack,” Gansey half-giggled, incredulous. “You can’t do this anymore. It’s not funny.”

“What have I done to you?”

The air only barely agreed to leave Gansey’s lungs, to push the words out.

“What have you _done to me_?”

_Harassed those I’ve dared to care about. Ruined Ronan’s chances of ever graduating. Terrorized the only place I’ve ever loved._

Gansey couldn’t help what rose out of him.

“Y-you reached into me and a-acted like I was supposed to know what it all meant, you’ve been so d-deep in me and you’ve been— toying with my insides...making me feel things, I’ve never—”

All of the neural processing caught up to Gansey’s mind in an overwhelming wave. He was babbling, he was choking, why couldn’t he stop _telling him_ —

“I was able to stop it from reaching my head, I was able to not feel it until you started _acting like that_ , you _made me_ —“

It had always been his biggest weakness. Strong emotions ran his mouth, made him too honest. The little boy inside of him heard a soft voice and sympathetic questions, and ran towards them, blind.

“It’s not fair— I— my stomach—“

Gansey found himself gasping and clutching K’s hand with both of his own. He could only faintly hear his murmuring.

“Sweetheart, little one, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m with you.”

K brought him to his chest, brushed tears away with broad strokes across his cheekbones.

“I know. I’m right here, I understand. I understand some good feelings are easier than others,” he soothed. Gansey nodded. Maybe he did understand? He felt so tired all of a sudden. He didn’t want to have to ask why kindness was happening, he just needed to have a moment with it. Then things would make sense.

“Can I touch someplace different? May I touch here?” Kavinsky hovered his hand over Gansey’s bottom half, still exposed. Against all odds, he was still hard and dripping.

Gansey nodded before he could think about it. He wanted someone else to take care of it; he always took care of difficult situations, couldn’t he have someone else be the leader, just this once?

Kavinsky slowly wrapped his bony fingers around him. He thumbed over the slit and the sensation was so strong that Gansey gasped audibly, his face scrunched up.

“Fix it, fix it.” Tears glittered in his eyes and he hugged Kavinsky’s other hand to the middle of his chest. As easily as they’d flowed before, the words in Gansey’s vocabulary limited themselves.

“I’m here, I’ll help you. I’m here to help you fix it. It’ll happen...” Kavinsky’s mouth moved against Gansey’s temple as he spoke.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” Gansey’s voice wobbled.

“It’s going to feel very big and very nice, and then you’ll feel better.”

“I’m scared.”

K’s expression grew even warmer with concern, his words barely a whisper. “Oh, honey...”

Through his anxiety-addled mind, Gansey liked being comforted. He remembered how his teacher in grade school had calmed him down from one or two or a dozen panic attacks, with this same tone. K was even calling him _honey_ , just like she had.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m here, and I’ll be right here the whole time. Good boy, brave boy.”

Kavinsky’s hand moved over him faster, and every word that he said was hitting Gansey where he _lived_. He’d already been close when K was fingering him open, and now he was right back to the edge. Tears continued to spill alongside his own wetness, coaxed out of him in his arousal, he was leaking—

“Please, please, can I please? I’m scared,” Gansey sobbed. He couldn’t seem to make up his mind, it was all so much.

“Can you please what, angel?” K brought the hand being held to Gansey’s chest up to his cheek, rubbing soothingly.

“I need— please tell me it’s okay, I’m allowed, please tell me I’ve been good—“ Gansey gasped desperately.

“You’ve been such a good boy today...it’s okay to let go, sweetheart, you can do it. Just relax, just let go.”

Finally with permission, Gansey finished hard against his tummy, crying out so miserably that it could have been mistaken for grief. He tried to catch his breath but it just kept quickening, and his little body jackknifed with aftershocks.

After a terrifying moment of silence, Kavinsky began rocking and hushing him as he whimpered. He let his one hand stay in Gansey’s tightened grasp, while the other reached for tissues on a side table.

“You’re okay, you’re okay...Shhh...that was a lot, huh?”

Gansey shivered as his stomach was wiped down until none of the mess was left.

“You were a good boy, you made me so happy.”

The overwhelmed boy in his lap wanted nothing more. His mind felt empty of thought, just full of big emotions, all of them towards the person holding him so gently.

“Do you want me to be happy with you?”

Gansey nodded.

“With your body all nice and relaxed now, we could do something else. It would make me feel so good, so pleased with you...Will you be my little helper?”

Gansey’s eyes were big and glassy as his heart sped up in his chest. Yes, he could help, he was good at helping. He couldn’t quite think of how yet, but he was sure K would show him. K wouldn’t mind.

“Wonderful,” K whispered, and Gansey beamed from the praise.

———————————————

Kavinsky could barely keep down the mirth that bubbled up in his throat.

The power that sparkled on his tongue and seemed to go right to his cock.

Where else would it go, huh? Anybody would get hard seeing King Dick Three reduced to a willing, sopping hole.

He put on a smile and ran his fingers through Gansey’s hair.

_Let’s see how far we can push this._

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, he craves the elaborate con.
> 
> Might write a second chapter where things get a little more cruel, if folks show interest! I love Gansey very dearly and that is why I must hurt him.


End file.
